


Madam Secretary

by campitor



Series: Madam Secretary [1]
Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Crack Relationships, Dom/sub, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Hair-pulling, Is this Crack? It feels like Crack, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campitor/pseuds/campitor
Summary: “For another thing, we’re under martial law, so I can do very nearly whatever the fuck I want. Including march through your precious little ship there towing you along behind in a ball gag and lacy underwear. So your warrant bullshit? You can roll that up and fuck it. Now tell me why I’m here.”“You know just ’cause you can do something, it doesn’t mean you should. I don’t look great in frills.”(Nemesis Games)
Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala/Amos Burton
Series: Madam Secretary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155374
Comments: 63
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have you heard of an OTP? What about a NoTP? I am ashamed to say that this silly smut fic got so out of hand it is being broken into two chapters. Yeah.

Later, she would keep asking herself how she ended up here.

She had invited the recently reunited crew of the Rocinante to her quarters on Luna for nightcaps and chit-chat. Chrisjen figured that if they were here with her, then they couldn’t get up to whatever apocalypse-triggering bullshit they normally would. Holden fretted over a frail Naomi like a mother hen. The spooky Mao girl was nowhere to be seen. Their dark-haired pilot was rattling the ice of his gin and tonic against the side of his glass. They were all awkwardly perched on the furniture, faces cast in different shades of discomfort. The only two that looked comfortable were Bobbie—unsurprising—and their brick shithouse of a mechanic.

Amos. Fucking Amos.

He was sitting sprawled in one of the chairs, that shit-eating grin of his plastered across his face. He had sucked down three drinks while everyone else had politely nursed one. He would look at her, and she would scowl back, and that grin of his would somehow get impossibly wider. She still wanted to kill him for bringing a ship of criminals and murderers onto Luna, and for using her name to get past the security perimeter. Chrisjen thought of those little toys whose eyes bulged out when you squeezed them. As Burton crunched noisily on an ice cube, she idly fantasized about strangling some sense into him.

“These are some nice fucking digs you got here, Chrissie,” he ventured when she caught him staring again.

She saw everyone in the room wince collectively. “I told you not to fucking call me that.”

“You got it, boss.” He winked at her, plucking another cube from his empty glass. Alex began blabbering about whether the leather upholstery was real.

Chrisjen glared daggers at Amos. All of the others had the good sense to make themselves presentable, but not him—he was in his mechanic’s jumpsuit. She noted that he had at least trimmed the unruly beard that he had grown on what was left of Earth. Good. The shorter, tight cut made him look more handsome, she thought. Then she wondered where the fuck that thought came from.

Bobbie and the pilot were talking now, having some terrible discussion about the best synthetic substitutes for this and that material. Fucking Martians. Amos unhooked his legs and let them fall open. It was not a very polite mode of sitting for a meeting with the acting secretary general. Something told her that Amos didn’t care.

“Hey Chrissie, mind if I grab another drink?” Amos held up his empty glass.

James Holden looked like he wanted to die. He placed a hand on Naomi’s leg. The Belter looked amused, totally unfazed by the disaster of the little get-together. Chrisjen supposed that any woman who was brave enough to date James Holden and ship with these morons had to be unflappable. Naomi patted Holden’s hand in a consoling gesture as he said, “I think we should probably all head back, yeah? It’s been a long couple of weeks…”

Amos smirked. It made Chrisjen’s lip twitch with irritation. Suddenly, an image flashed in her head—Amos naked underneath her, her hand wrapped around his neck as she—

She drowned the thought by swallowing the last of her own tonic.

Chrisjen knew that she was lonely, stressed, and horny. The past few weeks had been hell. But, she did not think that she was _so_ lonely, stressed, and horny that she was considering what it would be like to fuck Amos Burton.

But maybe it couldn’t be helped that Amos was just begging to have that grin slapped off of his face.

Everyone, Amos included, was standing to leave. She inhaled deep and, before she lost her nerve, pointed one finger at the big man. “Not you, Burton. You stay.”

That made everyone pause. Bobbie cast her a quizzical look. Holden looked as if he was wishing for another Free Navy asteroid to strike him down where he stood. Naomi was giving Amos a very clear “what-the-fuck-did-you-do-now” look. Alex just looked confused. Amos, on the other hand, looked like the cat that got the cream.

Holden, being the good captain that he was, ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. “Is this about Clarissa? Should I stay?”

“No. Burton and I just need to discuss some things that happened while he was on Earth,” she lied. Holden’s shoulders slumped as if this was somehow worse than the whole shitshow with the Mao girl. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m not going to throw him a cell. Shoo.”

Holden gave Amos a stern look that clearly meant something. Amos shrugged in the Belter style, still smiling. Chrisjen gestured to the door, and they all left without another word. The door clicked shut, and they were alone.

Amos waggled his empty glass at her. “You want?”

She sighed and handed him her own empty tumbler as he plodded into the kitchenette. “Make it a double,” she said as he began pouring out the gin.

“Not fucking around, then.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He made a little impressed noise. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. There was only a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

She tried in vain to ignore the way that made heat flood between her legs. Amos trotted back over with the drinks, and then sat back down in his chair. They nursed the cocktails silently for a few moments, eyeing each other over the rims of their glasses.

“We got something we need to discuss?” Amos finally ventured.

Chrisjen leaned back in her chair and regarded him. His thick muscles spoke of utility rather than vanity, and his nose looked like it had probably been broken a few times. The jumpsuit he wore had old grease stains on it. She glanced between his spread legs.

“You are a royal pain in the ass, did you know that?”

Amos chuckled lowly. “Yeah, I’ve been told. I don’t mean anything by it, Chrissie. Just the only thing I know how to be.”

She scowled again. He leaned back in the chair, wiggling his shoulders against the back to get comfortable. The way that nothing seemed to faze him—it was infuriating. Once again, her mind supplied her with creative ways to wipe the grin off his face. Or, at least, better ways to put his mouth to work. 

Fuck it. She couldn’t believe that she was doing this, and if Burton ever breathed a word of it to anyone she would feed his own dick to him in tiny, bite-sized pieces. But she needed the itch scratched badly and, for whatever reason, the mechanic seemed like her best bet right now. Receptive, at least. She took a generous swallow of her cocktail and then cast her cool gaze on him.

“You’re going to fuck me.”

That came pretty close to rendering him speechless. He jerked forward in the chair a bit, his eyes bright and eager. The drink in his hand was totally forgotten. She watched the wheels turn in his head, surprise and delight alternating swiftly. “Real shit? Or is this some kind of kinky test?”

She groaned. She was going to regret this, wasn’t she? “Amos, I’m stressed and lonely and I haven’t been fucked in months. So, you’re going to fuck me.”

Amos’ grin split impossibly wider. He looked as eager as a fucking child on Christmas. “Now?”

“No. After I finish my drink.”

He finished his quickly and waited expectantly for her to do the same. She shook her head. “Don’t be so fucking impatient.”

Amos tilted his head to one side and gave her a look, searching. She gave him the withering stare that she used on the U.N. admirals. A bit of heat was entering his eyes now and a small smile crept across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said lowly, and then leaned back and waited.

She took a tiny sip of her drink and then set it down on the table. Amos stared at it like it had just kicked him in the balls. “If anyone ever finds out about this, I will find a way to make your life miserable. I will send your ship to the junkyard and I will put your cock on a stick and display it in front of the U.N. headquarters. Do you understand?”

“Loud and clear.” He paused, then waggled an eyebrow. “So all the stuff about gagging me and putting me in lace panties—was that just foreplay, Chrissie?”

“Shut the fuck up. I mean it, Burton—I will end you and throw the Mao girl into the deepest cell I can find if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone.”

He sobered. Something on his face changed and his smile grew gentler. “Yeah, I get it. Nothing wrong with wanting things, y’know,” he said with surprising thoughtfulness. “Especially with all the shit you’re dealing with. Don’t get why you’re asking me, to be honest, but trust me, I ain’t complaining.”

She picked the glass back up. “I’m asking you,” she said, “Because I’ve seen you ogling my tits like a teenager every time we talk.”

“They’re great tits,” Amos offered enthusiastically.

“And,” she continued sternly, “You need to do something with your mouth besides run it.”

“Sure do,” Amos agreed. He watched her for a moment, then stood. She held a hand up and pointed at her unfinished drink. He held his palms open in surrender. “No rush, I know, I know. But I gotta do something with my mouth, right?”

Before she could process his words, he was between her legs, pushing the skirts of her sari up and licking his lips lewdly. He teased her through her panties, nosing at her clit and gusting hot breath over her folds.

 _Well_ , she thought as he pressed wet kisses along her thighs, _this is really happening_. Her panties were removed and tossed to some unknown corner of the room, and then Amos ran his tongue across her slit.

Her breath hitched, and he glanced up to meet her gaze. He drew a circle around her clit before pulling away and saying, cheeky, “You just finish your drink, and I’ll just be down here making myself useful.” Then he started lapping at her wetness again. The coarse hair of his beard rubbed at her thighs with a tantalizing roughness.

Amos was good with his mouth. He started slow, drawing light circles over her clit and licking up from her core. Chrisjen sipped at her drink, thighs trembling lightly. It had been months since anyone had touched her like this. When she glanced down at him, his eyes were closed in genuine pleasure and he was issuing soft, appreciative grunts. As she grew wetter, his licking grew firmer and he began to suck at her clit. His hands had crept up to rest on her thighs.

The pleasure plateaued, smoldering. Chrisjen tried to lose herself to the sensation of Amos’ tongue teasing her clit, but a little voice in her mind kept telling her that this was a bad, stupid idea. She was about to fall into bed with a man at least twenty years her junior, the Rocinante’s hired muscle and one of the most insufferable idiots she had ever met. But he’s handsome, another little voice said, and apparently a horny bastard. And, that little voice added, you deserve nice things for once.

“Fucking right,” she muttered under her breath. “Goddamn fucking right I deserve nice things.”

Amos pulled away from her folds. His beard was smeared with her wetness, and his eyes looked darker, the pupils blown. “You say something, Chrissie?” he asked, peering up at her.

She took in the sight of Amos fucking Burton between her legs, looking docile as a kitten and sensual as Adonis. “I said, get on the bed.”

He blinked slowly, then grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Amos at least had the sense to kick his shoes off before he laid down on the bed. She swallowed the last of her drink, kicked her own slippers off, and then walked over to join him. He moved to sit against the pillows, but she stopped him with a look. Hitching up the skirts of her sari, Chrisjen climbed into bed. She straddled his chest, purposefully ignoring his growing erection, and grabbed a fistful of his short hair in one hand. “Now,” she said, using his hair as leverage to move her hips up over his face, “You’re going to make me come.” She pressed her hot cunt to his lips.

Amos made a noise of pleasured surprise but began eating her out with enthusiasm. This was better, she thought as she let the skirts of her sari pool around his head. Amos ran his hands up her side and rubbed them over her clothed breasts; she ground herself onto his face to remind him of the task at hand. 

Like this, it didn’t take her long at all to near the precipice of orgasm. Amos worked her clit skillfully, alternating between gentle sucks and long, flat presses of his tongue. “Fuck,” she hissed as the pleasure began to crescendo and her legs began to shake. Amos kept his steady pace, his feelings only betrayed by the tightening of his hands on her hips. Chrisjen cried out her orgasm and Amos moaned as she came, winding the motion of his tongue down in tandem with her shuddering thighs.

She glanced down at him, breath heavy, and he opened his eyes to stare at her. The man looked positively blissed-out. His beard was a mess. He pressed his lips to her clit once more, making her shudder from over-stimulation, and then gently pushed her off so that he could sit up.

“God fucking damn,” he murmured, sounding entirely too pleased with himself, and licked her wetness from his lips. She ignored him; all she wanted was to ride the waves of her post-orgasm euphoria, but Amos couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. “Not bad, hey Chrissie?”

She reached over and slapped him. The angle was bad, and it wasn’t as hard as she intended, but it seemed to make an impression on the big mechanic. His eyes widened, and his grin shifted from something artificial to something more thoughtful, more pleased. There was a pink mark on his cheek where one of her rings had hit him. “Yeah?” he asked, and now his voice held no snark. She wondered briefly if she had gone a step too far. But then Amos reached up almost reverently to touch the cheek she had hit, brushing his fingertips along his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a soft purr, sex personified. “I’ll be good.”

Her pussy clenched at that. She couldn’t deny that she liked the power she had over the burly mechanic. Humorlessly, she thought that he might be the only thing she _had_ control of these days. “Get undressed,” she ordered, waiting to see if he would comply.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied before unzipping his jumpsuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me father for I have sinned. Come find me at pig-wings on Tumblr.


	2. Chapter 2

Underneath, Amos was wearing a tight black shirt but no underwear. Chrisjen raised an eyebrow; Amos just grinned. As if for emphasis, he grabbed his cock and stroked it once. “Gotta let it all breathe, y’know?”

“I am sure that I do not know,” she said dryly. “Take your shirt off.”

He complied, tossing the shirt into the pile with his jumpsuit. Amos’ powerful torso was marked with wicked scars; two bullet marks pocked his shoulder, and a large gash marred his belly. She was again reminded of just who she was inviting into her bed—too late for regrets, though. He reached over to touch the skirt of her gown. “Please?” he asked, eyes bright.

Chrisjen almost laughed at that, at his desperation. The man could probably rip the garment to shreds, and yet he was giving her fucking puppy-dog eyes as he asked to see her tits. She couldn’t help but smirk down at him, regarding his erection as if trying to decide if she was actually going to let him fuck her. She nodded. “Hang it back up in the closet.”

His fingers began to eagerly unwrap the gown. Annoyed, Chrisjen reached out and grabbed at his beard, yanking his face up to look at her. Amos made a soft noise of protest. “Did you hear me? I said to hang it back up in the closet.”

She felt a surge of delight as the mechanic shivered all over. His demure little smile was starting to crack into an expression of open-mouthed arousal. “Yes. I will.” She let him go.

He carefully removed her dress, running his tongue over each new piece of skin that was revealed. She shivered as his beard tickled her chest, arms, belly. When he finally got the gown off her breasts, he took each of her nipples into his mouth and worshipped them in turn with his tongue. Her eyes fluttered shut, and it took all her willpower to push his head off.

“Put it in the closet.”

Amos inclined his head and carefully pulled the dress off the rest of her body. Chrisjen noted the way his fingers brushed over the fabric, touching the beads and tracing the embroidered accents reverently. He draped it over his arm, walked it to the closet, and carefully placed it on the hanger, much to her approval.

He joined her back on the bed, running a reverent hand down her body, reaching down to part her folds with a finger and trailing back up to her breasts. He glanced up at her, looking for permission. She nodded, and he clasped his hand over her breast, kneading gently and rubbing the nipple with his thumb. 

She sighed with pleasure. Idly, she wondered what he would do if she didn’t let him fuck her after all, if she kicked him out after he made her come again and made him do a rock-hard walk of shame back to his ship. It was an amusing visual, especially when she imagined the pitiful look on his face when she sent him away. But, denying him the pleasure felt like punishing herself as well.

His thick cock was currently pressed against her thigh, smearing precum onto her skin. She canted her hip away from him; when he tried to press back up to her again, she wrapped her hand a little too firmly around his erection. He pulled away from her chest with alarm, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, but he quickly complied and shuffled his hips away from her.

“You’re not as dumb as you look,” she taunted.

Amos laughed at that. “I just like keeping everything in one piece, and you have very sharp nails.” In response, she dug those nails into his scalp and forced his mouth back to her breast. He swore loudly, voice gone thick and deep, and sucked with enthusiasm. Chrisjen took one of his hand and guided it down to her pussy. He rubbed at her entrance, gathering her wetness, and then penetrated her with one thick finger. She groaned as he rubbed his thumb against her clit in time with the movement of his hand. After a minute he slid his finger out, and pulled his hand away; she was about to chastise him, but Amos brought the slick digit to his lips and sucked it clean with a wicked glint in his eyes. Then, he slid his hand back down to her heat, pressing two fingers inside.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes. He curled his fingers inside of her, causing her to cry out. “Please?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. “Not yet.”

Amos’ fingering grew more insistent. Suddenly, he latched his mouth onto her neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin there. She groaned and pressed her hand onto his nape, indulging in the sensation for a moment before pulling him off.

“Don’t give me a fucking hickey. I’m still the secretary general, not your goddamn girlfriend.”

He playfully licked the spot where her neck met her jaw, but conceded, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Her pussy clenched around his fingers. She felt him smile into her neck. “You like that?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He pressed his fingers in deep, rubbing his thumb against her clit. “Whatever you say, mistress.”

She sat up and slapped him again, harder this time than the first. He groaned in genuine pleasure, and she felt his hips twitch feebly. “Don’t be an asshole. Call me that again.”

“What, mistress?” he asked, voice half a moan, half a pleased chuckle.

“Yes.”

“Please let me fuck you now, mistress.” He gave her his best pleading eyes and pressed his thumb more firmly against her clit.

Chrisjen didn’t care that it was a show. The desperation in his voice, the way his cock was bobbing neglected besides her, it was fulfilling something in her that she hadn’t even known she needed. There was something deeply satisfying about having the big man wrapped around her finger, his pleasure at her mercy. Serves him right, she thought, after all of the bullshit and paperwork he had put her through. She reached down and stroked his weeping erection, then lifted the same hand to his beard and played with that.

“Fine.”

He pulled away from her. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly. She scooted up on the bed and let her knees fall open in invitation. Burton eyed her hungrily, taking his erection in hand and then lowering himself over her body. He dragged the head of his cock through her wetness a few times and then he was pressing for entrance.

She put her hands on his shoulder to stop him. He looked down at her, his face a mixture of desperation, confusion, and even, she noted with an odd surge of fondness, a little concern. “What do you say?” she inquired. She wasn’t going to let him have her that easily.

Amos’ brows knitted, then another shudder ran along his spine. “Thank you, mistress.” 

She gave him her most queenly smile and then pulled him in.

They both moaned. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust to his girth. Of course the bastard has a big cock, she thought as she savored the sensation of being filled. Probably why he’s so smug and carefree all the fucking time.

“Goddamn, Chrissie,” he murmured, the submissive mask dropped for a moment. “I think I know where you carry your stress.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Amos started a slow, deep pace. His eyes were shut, mouth open, and so Chrisjen took the moment to get a better look at his features. Dots of grey speckled his hair and beard. Next to her head, his tattooed arms flexed with the effort of supporting himself.

She was content with the deep and leisurely pace for a minute or two, but Chrisjen figured that if this was the last time she was getting fucked for—well, for a long time—she mind as well get her metaphorical money’s worth. She reached up to grab his flexing ass and dug her nails in. “Harder. I’m not going to fucking break.”

He moaned some sort of affirmative and drove in harder. “Yesss,” she hissed. She pressed in hard with her nails and drug them from his tailbone to his shoulder blade. Amos issued a strangled groan and lifted his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were desperate and pleading, darkly feral. She scratched her nails down his back again, harder this time, and he replied with another strangled moan and fucked her harder.

I am too fucking old for this, some distant part of her mind lamented as Amos really cut loose and she started to lose control of the sounds she was making. But a deep pleasure was flaring again and she felt her mind slipping to the euphoric plane of good sex, the place where the only things that mattered were the sweaty, grunting body above her and the pleasurable ache blooming in her cunt.

“I’m gonna come,” Amos warned, pace faltering. Chrisjen just pulled him in deeper.

He groaned as he came, burying his face in her neck as his hips stuttered weakly. As he enjoyed his aftershocks, he lifted one hand to pleasure her. Chrisjen was surprised how quickly he brought her to her own orgasm; she cried out and pulsed around his softening cock, and Amos moaned from the overstimulation.

He pulled out and rolled over to his back, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” he whispered as if he was praying. Chrisjen closed her eyes and enjoyed the afterglow. She heard Amos lift himself from the bed and plod into the bathroom. The water ran for a minute, and when the bed dipped again with his weight a warm washcloth was pressed to her crotch.

She opened one eye to regard him. “Who taught you to be a gentleman?”

He just grinned in response, taking the towel and throwing it in the recycler when she had cleaned herself up.

They lay side-by-side but not touching. Amos blew out a gusty breath. “Goddamn, Chrissie, that was hot.” He rolled over to his side and propped his head with one hand. “You finally gonna admit we have some chemistry or nah?”

She snorted. “Don’t count on it happening again, Burton.”

“Hell, I’m happy it happened once. You could’ve had me eat your pussy and then make me walk back to the _Roci_ with a hard-on and I would’ve been the happiest bastard in the system.”

Chrisjen laughed at that, the sound coming from deep in her belly. It had been a few weeks since she had laughed like that, she realized. “If only I had known that,” she quipped back.

“Naw,” Amos drawled, “I think you needed that, the whole thing.” He waggled an eyebrow salaciously. “You’re pretty kinky, you know that? I like it. I like knowing that Earth is being run by a kinky motherfucker. Makes politics seem less boring. Maybe I should run for office.”

“If you want to take my job, you are more than welcome to. It’s shit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Might be easier if you could break some noses.”

She laughed again. “It probably would be.”

“You want another drink?”

“No. In fact, get the fuck out of my apartment.” Sleep was beginning to tug at her conscious, coming more easily than it had in weeks. She sincerely wished that the man would just shut up and leave so that she could sink into the post-coital haze.

“You got it. But, hey, let me shower first. Y’know, so I don’t smell like sex and perfume when I get back on the Roci.”

Chrisjen opened her eyes and scowled at him. He just gave her a Belter shrug. “Fine. Just don’t use up all my water.” 

“You have a water ration? No shit. Maybe politics isn’t as glamorous as I thought.”

“Shower. Now. Then leave.”

He gave her a mock salute and trundled away. She heard the water start, but sleep was dragging her down quickly and soon she fell into a dreamless, heavy slumber.

\---

She was naked when she woke, which was different, and her body was pleasantly sore all over. Right. She had had sex with Amos Burton last night. She had _asked_ Amos Burton to have sex with her.

“That fucking idiot is going to be jacking off to that memory for years,” she said to the ceiling. It did not confirm or deny.

Chrisjen sighed and stood to put on a dressing gown. As she did, she noticed that the closet door was slightly ajar. She slid it open the rest of the way, suspicious. One of the hangers that had _definitely_ held a sari the night before hung empty. There was a note clipped to the hanger, written in a scrawled hand.

_Hey Chrissie,_

_Thanks for a fun night. You know where to find me!_

_Your ~~obeedeeant~~ ~~obeidiant~~ obedient servant,_

_A_

“Fucking Burton,” she swore, and slammed the door shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Amos, what did the secretary general want with you last night??"
> 
> "Oh, you know, just wanted to slap me around for some of that shit I pulled on Earth." 
> 
> Come stare at me disapprovingly on tumblr at pig-wings.


End file.
